The admissions officer was beginning to wonder when his break was. He took a sip from his drink, that despite him having drank its contents at least five times over, was still not empty.
(The fact that it was beginning to taste less and less like coffee by the second might have been why.)
In walked his next interviewee. He set the cup down, taking note of how it had become
purple. That didn't seem right, but he didn't have the time nor will to complain. He shuffled with the papers before him until he found one with a photo that matched the boy who had just walked in.
"Augustus Walter Lacey-Vane," he declared, taking his seat opposite the interviewer. He leaned onto the table, perhaps too far.
"The second, after my father."The interviewer shuffled back uncomfortably. "Are you supposed to be here? The appointment for this time is... August Lacey."
"Oh," August said.
"Oh, yes, that's me." He sounded offended.
The admissions officer skimmed the rest of his application. Seventeen. Male. Human. From the Federation, a small region that wasn't doing too well as of late. Appearance... he crossed out the neatly penned "6'2" and wrote "5'11" in its place. The
photo was more or less accurate. Well dressed (was that the same suit he was wearing to the interview?), with uneven hair - longer on the left, shorter on the right. Whoever had cut it must have been blind.
"Physical abilities and skills," the interviewer muttered.
"Oh, yes! Well, you see, I-""Piano, poetry, sewing, embroidery. There's a hobbies section, you know. These aren't physical abilities."
"I have to use my body to do them. Therefore, they are 'physical' skills."The admissions officer gave him a withering look. "Right, and then for your magical skills, you've written 'curses'. Would you... would you care to elaborate?" He was almost afraid to ask.
"It's very simple. Curses, unlike regular spell casting, have potent effects that-"The admissions officer grimaced.
"-last for long amounts of time, often with the intent to harm the victim. No throwing lava around (but of course, I can still do that!), but I could certainly make you feel like you were on fire for the next hour." August reached into his pocket, bringing out - was that a
guinea pig?
"Now, I've prepared a demonstration.""There's no need," the interviewer said quickly, snatching the animal off of the table. "Really, there isn't. You've got an interest in potion making?"
"Drinkable curses," August said, nodding sagely.
"I see. And then..." the admissions officer trailed off as he gazed at the page. The handwriting had changed from (presumably August's) neat print to looping cursive.
Magical Quirks: Afflicted with a curse that causes anything he touches to slowly freeze over. Given to him by his birth mother, my husband's mistress. Please accept him. Contact the Vanes if any additional persuasion is needed.Bribe or not, the boy would probably be allowed in, but the admissions officer thought about his salary and scribbled a note to himself.
"For interests, you've written the same as your physical skills section, but you've included tea?"
"Yes.""Alright then. Final question. Why have you chosen to Fae Creek?"
"Oh, because I've heard... all sorts of wonderful things about it! Yes, it is a very accomplished school. I would be really, really happy if I got in." His smile said sincerity, but his eyes said desperation.
Previous Incidents: Former student of the Imperial Institute of Magic. Accidentally froze over several dorm rooms when forgetting to wear gloves when sleeping, rendering them unusable for a month. Punishment for vandalism and and curse fraud: permanent exclusion and compensation to be paid."It says here you used to go to the Institute," the admissions officer said plainly.
"What? Oh, does it now," August whined. He had been caught.
"Well, that wasn't my fault! Mother forgot to tell them I had a curse. See, I didn't do anything. Anyway, they fixed everything in the end. It wasn't even that bad. It was way slower back then. It was only a few rooms. There was a girl who burned down the entire new science wing earlier that year. They've got to rebuild that entire thing, but all they had to do for me was melt it and maybe replace a bit of furniture.""I see. That concludes the interview." The admissions officer reached out for a handshake, which August graciously took. A good, firm, grip and- oh.
His hand was freezing cold, even through the glove. The interviewer could feel the hard ice underneath the fabric. As August's grip tightened, he could feel them crunch and break.
"Oh, sorry!" he gasped, taking his hand back. August pulled off his glove. Ice shards fell to the floor. His poor, poor carpet.
"It does that sometimes. Uh, thank you for your time. Have a great morning." He smiled widely, putting the glove back on and hastily making his exit before the interviewer could speak again.
Was it still the morning? The admissions officer groaned, moving to hold his head in his hands. But in his left hand...
...he was still holding the guinea pig.
stone
Izurich
Yankee
